


Fracture Pattern

by ryanthepowerbottomguy



Series: Ticket to Hell [5]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Gen, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryanthepowerbottomguy/pseuds/ryanthepowerbottomguy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin and Ryan get snatched. It doesn't go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fracture Pattern

More than anything else, Gavin was  _annoyed_.

Kidnappings thankfully didn’t happen too awfully much to the six of them, though this wasn’t the first time Gavin had been snatched in the middle of a gunfight and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

He had come back to consciousness a couple minutes ago, soreness from being tied to a chair making itself known before the sting of minor injuries from the gunfight itself did. He had a headache, now, from whatever they used to knock him out. Chloroform, probably, with his luck.

After he blinked to clear his vision, he looked around the room he was in. Small, bare, with corrugated metal walls that said he was in a warehouse, maybe, or some kind of large storage unit. The fluorescent lights were bright enough to add to the headache, though there was one light in the corner that flickered distractingly.

Opposite him was another figure tied to another chair, and it only took a second or two for Gavin to realize that it was Haywood, who should have had his back during the heist. Fat lot of good that did. Haywood was shifting, like he was just beginning to wake up. A moment later, when Haywood raised his head off his chest, Gavin saw him blink a couple times, though he couldn’t figure out Haywood’s expression, what with the mask in the way.

Haywood groaned when he saw Gavin staring at him. “Great,” Gavin thought he heard Haywood say, words muffled by the skull. “This is going to be fun.”

“Oh come on, Ryan,” Gavin said, grinning through the pounding in his head. When Haywood didn’t look at him, Gavin leaned forward as best he could and cooed, “Lovely Ryan. At least there’s a bright side to all this.”

Haywood stared at him, eyes flat. It didn’t bother Gavin anymore, not like it had at the start. “And what’s that?”

“You’re with me,” Gavin said. “I mean, and we’re still alive, and hopefully the others weren’t caught too so that they can come rescue us if we don’t manage to break ourselves out soon.”

Gavin swallowed, making himself stop before he revealed how nervous he was. Not scared—he hadn’t felt properly scared in a while, probably not since before he joined Geoff’s crew, probably not since he had come to America—but he didn’t know who had snatched them, or what they wanted, and it was setting him on edge.

A door opened somewhere behind Gavin, and he watched Haywood’s gaze flick disinterestedly over whoever had entered the room.  _Good_ , Gavin thought as the door clanged shut again (sounded like metal, interesting) and locked audibly. If Haywood wasn’t worried, then Gavin didn’t have much reason to be, either. If Haywood had recognized their captor, or if he had looked distressed, then that would have been cause for concern. As it was, the person who snatched them was probably some small-time idiot who had gotten lucky, and that meant dumb mistakes all over the place. Gavin bet that they would be out of here within the hour. He grinned at Haywood, and Haywood’s eyes crinkled in what might have been a smile. Damn mask.

Heavy hands landed on Gavin’s shoulders. “I see you’re both awake,” the person said, voice mock-cheerful. Gavin hated him immediately. “We can get the fun started right away, then.” He let go of Gavin and moved into Gavin’s line of sight.

He was tall, blond, and looked put-together in a way that meant he was either very new to this kind of business or meant he had others doing his dirty work for him. Either way, Gavin wasn’t impressed.

He could hear others—two, from the sounds of it—behind him, probably meant to act as intimidation. Muscle-bound idiots, most likely. It was so cliche that Gavin couldn’t help but smirk and wish for a swinging, flickering bulb above him.

Blondie finished fooling around at the edge of Gavin’s vision and moved closer. Oh, if he intended to use the knife in his hand, he was going to get blood on that nice suit.

“So here’s the deal,” Blondie said, standing over Gavin, making Gavin tilt his head back to hold his gaze. “I know you work for Ramsey, Free. And you’re gonna tell me all his little secrets.”

Gavin wanted to roll his eyes, but he also didn’t want to start bleeding already, and the way Blondie was holding that knife was making him nervous. “And if I don’t?” he asked, sighing internally at the predictability of it all. It was always  _Geoff’s_  secrets that these people wanted, like Gavin hadn’t even existed before joining the Fake AH Crew. Though, he thought, it was probably better that these small-time assholes didn’t know exactly who he was.

Blondie just smiled and nodded to one of the goons behind Gavin, who moved to grab at Haywood. And yep, the guy was a muscly, dumb-looking type. Haywood just looked annoyed at the manhandling.

“Then I’m going to start cutting pieces off your boyfriend,” Blondie said.

It took a second for the words to register, and when they did, Gavin couldn’t help but burst out into laughter. “My—my  _what_? Did you say _boyfriend_?” He dissolved into giggles at the very thought. “I’ve not even seen the tosser’s face, and you think we’re, what, shagging?”

He could feel Haywood’s annoyed stare on him, but he didn’t stop laughing until Blondie grabbed a fistful of Gavin’s hair, which  _hurt, ow_ , and made him look up. Blondie didn’t look too happy at being laughed at, and Gavin’s jaw snapped shut. No, he wasn’t afraid of this idiot—especially not now that he had revealed how  _atrocious_  his fact-finding skills were—but he was very aware that he was tied to a chair and that Blondie had any number of torture implements plus at least two very brawny goons who could easily beat the shit out of him.  

Then Blondie let go of Gavin and turned to Haywood. Gavin blinked at the sudden absence of pain.

“Never seen your face, huh?” Blondie muttered, almost to himself. “I wonder why that is, Haywood. Why do you want to hide your face even from your friends?”

Gavin realized his slip a second before Blondie grabbed the mask by the chin and yanked it off, hard enough that Haywood’s head snapped back. Haywood’s eyes went wide when he realized what had happened, and he turned his face away from Gavin and Blondie like that could hide him.

He was an average-looking guy, Gavin thought. His face wasn’t terribly misshapen or deformed by scars, and it wasn’t a face he recognized. There was a red fractal-pattern scar across the majority of his left cheek that snaked up from under the collar of his jacket, but that was it. His eyes were ringed thickly in kohl, but Gavin had seen that before through the mask’s eyeholes. It was starting to run now, which Gavin had to admit was a little creepy. The creepy factor was almost completely ruined by the panic in Haywood’s eyes, though.

“Huh,” Gavin was saying before he could stop himself. “I thought he’d be funnier looking.”

Blondie made a noise like he agreed, but he was grinning at Haywood, and Haywood was beginning to struggle in his bonds, and Gavin knew that joking playtime was over.

—

Even after the revelation of his little mistake, Blondie didn’t go after Gavin directly. Maybe he thought the two of them were bluffing, maybe he thought that Gavin and Haywood were much better actors than they actually were. Maybe he was just stupid. In any case, he started slow. Demanded that Gavin tell him who Ramsey’s suppliers were, slicing into Haywood’s hands and face when Gavin laughed and refused to answer.

Now that the initial panic at being de-masked had faded, Haywood looked almost bored. Blondie wasn’t too awful creative with his torture methods.

“What about you, Haywood?” Blondie asked, and even though Haywood was sweating and bloody he grinned and spat at Blondie. Blondie lost his composure at that, punching Haywood in the stomach and then slapping his face so hard that the chair tipped over and he opened up a cut on Haywood’s scarred cheek.

This was so obviously Blondie’s first rodeo that Gavin felt a little bad for him. Not much, of course, because he still had Gavin tied to a chair and he looked close to snapping, but a little bit.

And that was when Blondie started getting  _mean._

—

Gavin gagged at one point and Blondie paused, triumphant grin on his face sliding away when Gavin said, “Oh, that’s just  _disgusting_ , can’t you do something to him that’s not so bleeding gross? I’ve got a sensitive gag reflex and this isn’t helping.”

Haywood glared up at him from the floor through a black eye, and oh, that cut had to be dripping blood into his other eye. Probably hurt like a bitch.

Blondie narrowed his eyes at Gavin and did it again, angling his knife carefully and shaving off a piece of the skin of Haywood’s outer arm, and Gavin did look away at that. He heard Haywood laugh, though, heard him say, “Oh come on, is that all you’ve got?”

—

At this point, Gavin was just ready to go home. Blondie had started taking out his aggravation out on Haywood, and Haywood might have a cracked rib or two from those kicks, and Gavin was getting well annoyed at it all. Haywood wasn’t anywhere close to breaking, but he was in a fairly good deal of pain—Gavin could see it in his eyes, in the clench of his jaw—and while at first it had been funny, Blondie thinking that they were an item, it pissed Gavin off that he had tried to play them off each other like that.

A few minutes ago, Blondie had sent away his goons, and with all his attention focused on Haywood it gave Gavin the opportunity to try to get himself out of his bonds. It wasn’t working out too well, though: hands tied behind him, ankles tied to the legs of the chair, he didn’t have the kind of maneuverability he wanted. At least Blondie hadn’t tied his elbows together.

He managed it, though, managed to slip his hands from the ropes while Blondie was otherwise distracted. Gavin shot a significant look at Haywood, hoping he got the message that Gavin needed Blondie’s attention completely diverted so he could untie his ankles, and Haywood performed perfectly, making his soft noises of pain louder, whimpering like he was close to breaking, and Gavin had to grin as he quickly undid the ropes around his ankles.

The table with Blondie’s torture instruments was close by Gavin’s elbow, and he reached back and grabbed the first thing he touched—a knife, and it still had some of Haywood’s blood on it.

The noise made Blondie turn, and Gavin grinned at the confusion in his face. Gavin didn’t give him a chance to call in his goons, just stabbed him in the lung and oh, look, the blood staining that gray suit was just as ghastly as Gavin had imagined.

Gavin turned to Haywood then. “Ready to get out of here?”

“More than ready,” Haywood answered, and let himself be cut free and helped to his feet.

—

They found a gun on Blondie’s body, and with that, the knife, and Haywood’s stealth skills, they managed to take out the three others in the building with relative ease. Even with a couple cracked ribs and blood dripping into his eyes, Haywood made killing look graceful.

They emerged from the building—a small, self-contained storage storage unit that had been repurposed—into the county’s dry heat and blinding sunlight. Gavin blinked and looked around, but he didn’t recognize where they were.

Gavin got started hotwiring one of the trucks out front—after all, it wasn’t like Blondie or any of his crew was going to need it—while Haywood ducked back inside the place.

When Haywood climbed into the passenger seat, he was already wearing the mask again.

“Aw, Ryan,” Gavin said as he started up the car, watching Haywood slump in his seat. They would drive until they found signs for the highway, and then they’d be back in Los Santos in no time, with Caleb patching Haywood up. “Why’d you put your mask back on? I was just getting used to your face.”

“Fuck off, Gavin,” Haywood muttered, but there was something vulnerable in the way he turned away and leaned against the car window. “Just drive.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ryanthepowerbottomguy](http://ryanthepowerbottomguy.tumblr.com) over on tumblr! come say hi!


End file.
